


Chores?

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman - Fandom, Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yeah, Damian Wayne doesn't really know how to do them. He'll learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chores?

Damian Wayne was _cold_. It was ridiculous, he knew, to be shivering in this weather, but he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. Things like this happened sometimes— it felt like his heart wasn’t beating fast enough to keep him warm. The cold started in his fingertips, snaking up his wrists until his pencils fell from his icy hands and his phone didn’t recognize his touch. He slept in a nest of blankets now. Sometimes, he dragged them off his bed and wore them around the house, the same way he kept his cape wrapped around him when he went on patrol.  
Todd said the cold never went away.  
Anyway, it was like living in an icebox. You’d think that a billionaire could afford to keep his house a few degrees warmer, but no— it was always “Damian, stop messing with the thermostat” or “Damian, it’s ninety degrees in here, and Tim says he can’t breathe.” Was that supposed to make him feel guilty? Please. Drake could asphyxiate if he wanted. As far as Damian was concerned, that was only fair.  
But he was trying to be more considerate. He really was— that was what led him to the laundry room.  
He stumbled in on a Sunday afternoon, looking for his favorite hoodie. It usually reappeared in his drawer a few hours after he left it in the basket— Pennyworth probably had something to do with that— but today his drawers were empty. _Maybe it’s in the dryer_ , Damian thought, and he wandered downstairs to check.  
He’d never been in the laundry room before. It was small, tucked away by the kitchen, filled with stacks of clothing and gloriously warm. Damian sighed in relief as he placed his numb hands against the dryer— it was almost better than a heater.  
His sweatshirt wasn’t in the piles of clean clothing, and when he checked the washer, it was sitting in a sodden heap at the bottom. That was just his luck, wasn’t it? He needed it now.  
Damian stuck his head out the door and yelled toward the kitchen. “Pennyworth?” Nothing happened. Alfred was probably in the cave, which meant he wouldn’t be up again any time soon. Damian might have to wait for hours.  
Or… He could always switch the load himself. Damian glanced at the dryer— it didn’t look difficult to operate. All he had to do was push a couple of buttons, right? He’d be fine.  
Damian pulled open the dryer door and piled the clean clothes on it’s lid. After that, he couldn’t help himself— he flopped face-first into the heap of warm fabric. _Perfect_. He fished out one of his father’s sweatshirts and pulled it on, even though it fell past his knees and the sleeves were twice as long as his arms. He felt so much better now— warm and comfortable in his stolen jacket. Maybe Father would let him keep it.  
The machines were simple, it turned out, and Damian didn’t have any trouble working them. Folding the clean clothes was harder— was there some kind of secret butler trick for that? No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make the even rectangles that Pennyworth always managed. He struggled with his pile for ages, intent on mastering the skill.  
And that’s where Alfred found him— perched on the dryer and sorting through socks, wearing a sweatshirt six sizes too big.


End file.
